Ghostly Guardian
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: Who says that angels need to be in the form of a human to help humans? Dean finds out when lost and injured in a forest, angels can also have hoofs and manes.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.

**This is my first time writing on a character from the point of view of an animal, specifically a horse. So, I'm afraid I might not be able to capture the essence of the horse characteristics and behaviors as well as I should have. Please forgive me if I do a bad job of it. I will accept criticism, not flames.  


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**Ghostly Guardian  
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Dean was beginning to think that Wendigoes seriously have a bad obsession with kidnapping him or something.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt, dealing with the creature that had been picking off campers in the local camping site. They had dealt with Wendigoes several times before, so this was supposed to be quick and easy.

Apparently, it wasn't.

The Wendigo was smart, patiently waiting out on them, as Dean and Sam tried to convince the family of five to leave the park. It trapped them, cutting off all communication, taking all maps and supplies, even surprising them by snatching their weapons and flare guns. While they stumbled around the forest, trying to escape, it waited until it was dark, when it finally struck.

Just a fleeting blur, the Wendigo looped around them, delighting in their panic and terror that they do not know where it laid in the dark. It frequently cried out, both in its human voice and its real voice, screeching and howling, causing the children to cry out fearfully.

The last time Dean saw Sam was when he was shielding the family with a blunted axe. Only for the Wendigo to appear out of nowhere and drag him away into the dark. The frantic calls of Sam and screams from the mother still echoed in his head.

He bit back a cry of pain as claws dug through his jeans and into his leg, ripping and tearing. He could feel the beast's hot, stinking breath, so close that if it wanted to, the Wendigo could lean forward and easily snap his neck in half with its jaw.

Gritting his teeth, Dean fumbled out the closest thing he had with him - the only thing he had, which happened to be his knife - and twisted his entire body, blindly plunging it into the Wendigo's arm as hard and deep as he could, despite knowing that a dagger won't do any good.

Still, the beast cried out, releasing Dean. Dragging his bleeding leg, he struggled to stand, leaning heavily against a tee for support, in his attempt to defend himself. There was no guarantee that Sam would find him in time, so he was on his own. His vision sharply darkened and he bit his lip hard to keep himself unconscious. He has to stay awake, has to keep fighting until Sam arrived.

The Wendigo was circling around him, its hungry, savage eyes fixated on Dean. Even from this distance, he could hear its heavy panting, overwhelmed with exhilaration and agitation. Its claws flexed into the dirt, itching already to sink into flesh and bone. Its entire body was tense, shoulders arched, elbows bent, all signs of it preparing itself to pounce, to attack, to kill. There was nothing - not Dean's knife, not Sam, not another hunter, not anything - that would get between it and its prey.

It leaped.

Dean braced himself, his only protection thrust out in front of him.

Then, he heard it. He might have believed it to be a delusion, an invention of his frantic, erratic mind, due to the fight-or-flight stimulation that pumped recklessly through his veins. But it became louder and louder, until Dean no longer had any doubt what he heard.

A clatter of hoofs and the thundering of something approaching them made even the Wendigo stop in its tracks and lift its head in apprehension.

With a great cry that belonged to no man or beast, a huge frame bounded gracefully over Dean, leaping over him and ramming bodily into the Wendigo. A white blur was all Dean saw before they began the two creatures began to clash, snarling and shrieking.

Hoofs found their mark on the Wendigo's lean chest, violently throwing it back. It went down with a shrill, pain-ridden screech, tumbling over a lump of bushes. The ghost-like beast had no hesitation before charging directly into the bushes, raising its mighty head as it relentlessly trampled on the fallen Wendigo.

Growling, it rolled and avoided another set of hoofs crushing down again, promptly springing and latching onto a tree. With a livid hiss, it scaled up the tree, soiled nails scrapping bark, disappearing into the heights and shelter of branches and leaves. Its angry rumbles that its meal was rudely snatched from it, resounded and even the trees trembled at the foul threat that laid underneath the snapping snarls.

The silvery creature paused, snorting in the frosty air, twisting and turning its head, ears pinned back to its head. Now that it was finally still and quiet, Dean could see what it was that saved him.

Proudly tossing its head back, its pristine mane falling in wisps of strands, the white stallion pawed the ground, tense and wary. A low snort fumbled through its lips as it flicked its tail agitatedly, gazing above towards the shadowed trees where its opponent hid. It shouldered itself, descending its head tensely, squaring its slender, long limbs as if challenging the cowardly beast concealed in the trees to come and get it.

And the Wendigo answered. Without warning, it gave an unholy howl and leaped from the safety of the shadows and tackled the stallion from above, fastening onto the stallion's back.

The stallion keened in a loud, pained bellow as it desperately tried to throw the Wendigo off itself, kicking its legs up into the air, racing about in circles in frenzied alarm. The Wendigo's claw-like hands gouged deep lacerations at its back, warbling in delight at each scream rattling from the stallion, that its foe was unable to shake it off. Yowling, it swooped down, clamping down its gaping mouth on the white stallion's neck, feasting and festering its fangs on the flesh of the enemy.

Screaming, the stallion veered off to a side, skidding and blundering into a thicket of trees, hammering itself with the gnarly bristles of the bark and branches alongside with the Wendigo. It bolted right into a particularly burly tree with a mighty crash, so hard that both the stallion and the beast tumbled and went down in a cluttered assortment of legs, blood and hair. Being squashed between the ridged tree and the sheer massiveness of the stallion, the Wendigo shrieked harshly upon releasing its captor.

Immediately, the stallion clambered back onto its feet, barely acknowledging the bloody gashes across its back and neck. It wasted no time delivering powerful kick after kick to the Wendigo, pounding and pinning it to the ground ruthlessly. The Wendigo went down once more with a whimper and the stallion now gained the upper hand.

Imposing, the stallion terrifyingly loomed over the helpless Wendigo that grovelled in the dirt, blaring a deafeningly dominating cry that it was the winner and that the Wendigo had lost. It raised its head in superiority, slamming its hoofs to the ground, a few inches from the face of the creature, who frightfully recoiled and tried to make itself as small as possible, shrinking against the tree. It knew it made a terrible mistake in choosing this particular prey that was guarded by this mysterious, majestic being in the form of a stallion.

Dean, who could only quietly watch the formidable and stunning battle between these two phenomenal creatures, could have sworn that a dazzling light seemed to expand from within the stallion, spreading outwards, not dimming, washing over the Wendigo, causing it to squeal and writhe in pain.

Dipping its head low, so that its muzzle briefly brushed against the Wendigo's forehead, the very air shuddered, as the stallion seemed to breath a murmur for the ears of the Wendigo only.

Then, with a final convulsion, the Wendigo slumped down to the ground, its body crackling and decaying to nothingness. Dean watched in fascination and astonishment as the creature's body seemed to fold into itself, shriveling, wilting, deteriorating. Smoke and dust rose from the angrily hissing blackened remains, before a passing wind came and blew it all away.

With a satisfied whinny, the stallion shifted its head, glancing over Dean, as if to confirm that he was all right. He gasped when he looked directly into its eyes, right into those radiating, sapphire eyes that were bluer than any sea or sky, so clear like crystal that they could almost see right through him and piercing right into his very soul.

A shiver passed through him. No animal could possibly have those eyes. They were too ethereal, too unworldly for a creature of the earth to possess.

In fact, there was only one other Dean knew who had those eyes. And that person wasn't even human.

" Cas?" he whispered.

The stallion - the angel bobbed his head once, beryl eyes focusing so intently on him. Then, with a whisk of his tail, Castiel began trotting away before stopping and turning to gaze at Dean again. He let out a soft nicker and stamped his hoof once, jerking his magnificent head over the hill, towards the direction he was heading.

Dean blinked slowly, and at last, he understood what the angel wanted. " You want me to follow you?" Another nicker. " All right. All right. I got you, Cas. You can keep all your tail strings."

The stare the stallion gave Dean was nearly in perfect imitation of Castiel's blank look that he gave Dean often when in his human form. Snorting in bewilderment at Dean's statement, the angel then clipped gracefully over to the hill, slowing down to a stop as he waited for Dean to come.

" I'm comin'. I'm comin'," Dean muttered, hurrying to climb over the hill, though the effort took more than he would expected with his mangled leg and the bruises littered over his body.

Castiel was never too quick or impatient. He always waited faithfully for Dean, as the hunter labored to catch up. His track was easy and even, as if Castiel was purposely avoiding higher areas or any crevices that might hinder Dean. And Dean never had trouble trying to locate the phantom figure bobbing in the darkness of the night. It was like a glowing light emitted from within the stallion, a steady beacon for him to see.

" So why a horse?" he conversationally asked. Castiel's ears twitched and he knew that the angel was listening. " A horse can't possibly be the only thing out here in this forsaken place. I mean, there's plenty of bears, birds, deer, little bunny rabbits, for you to possess. I bet it's because you like My Little Ponies?" he grinned.

Stopping, Castiel fixed him with a look of questioning, tilting his head inquisitively.

" Never mind." He cleared his throat. Like an angel was going to understand what My Little Ponies is. " Anyways, why this form and not the holy tax accountant? Did you ditch the poor guy somewhere?"

If animals could frown, Dean was sure that Castiel would have. The stallion shook his head, his hair falling elegantly over his eyes. He rumbled softly in his chest, cheeks puffed out as he blew air out in reply.

Amused, Dean grinned. " You talk a lot more in this form," he pointed out, feeling a sense of satisfaction? Delight? That Castiel was becoming more open in his actions. Even if his new found communication skills were developed in this particular form. " If I ever wanted to have a decent conversation with you, I'm all for you possessing a horse."

Now, Castiel adopted a half-amused, half-annoyed glare. He let out an exasperated snort and continued walking, seemingly rolling his eyes.

Dean chuckled. He truly did like this side of Castiel. No longer was he emotionless and closed off. Here, as an animal, every little thing he did, from a toss of his head, from a nicker, from a flap of his ears, was an expression of some sort, some way to convey his emotions to Dean. And he was glad for it. It almost made the angel more approachable, more _human_, as strange as it sounded.

But soon, Dean could no longer keep with Castiel's pace, as easy as it was. His body struggling, Dean sagged to the ground, clutching his injured leg, leaning heavily against a tree, breath hitched and cutting into his chest. Castiel backtracked and loped towards him, head bowing in concern. He nickered softly, nudging Dean with his head, blowing warm air into Dean's face comfortingly.

" It's no good, Cas. I can't walk anymore," he grunted. The blood had almost soaked right through his messy binding of a bandage using his jacket and seeping over his dirt-covered fingers. His whole body ached, demanding rest and sleep. But he knew he couldn't.

With something akin to a sigh, Castiel dropped right beside him, all four legs kneeling and folding neatly underneath him. His head dipped forward, brushing against Dean's arm, nibbling at his shirt.

" Hey!" Dean jerked his arm back, certainly taken back by such an animal behavior from Castiel. The angel could barely pass as a normal human being and yet, he behaved perfectly as the stallion he took the form of. " What are you doing? Cut it out, Cas!" He swatted his hands uselessly at the angel, but Castiel was insistent, tugging at his sleeve, eyes intent and bluntly earnest. He let out a whinny, using his head to press Dean towards his back.

" You want me to go _on_ you?" Dean exclaimed, surprised. Nodding, notably pleased that Dean got his message, Castiel continued trying to pull him onto his back. " Whoa. Whoa! Wait a minute! Hold on a second," he spluttered, fighting against Castiel's dogged pulls. Not that he didn't mind getting a free ride or something. His leg was really hurting and the rest of his body felt just as sore. But this was an angel here. Castiel, to be exact. People like him can't just go getting free rides on angels. " And what about your own injuries? Don't you think we should -"

Just then, with an extra hard wrench, Castiel managed to drape him clumsily over his back. And with fluid grace and movement, he stood up, Dean's legs dangling over his back, casually ignoring Dean's objecting protests. Dean's arms hastily clamped around Castiel's broad neck out of fear that he would fall off and end up in more pain (not to mention embarrassment) in front of the angel.

" Next time, warn me when you're going to do that!" he angrily snapped, gripping Castiel's neck a little harder than he meant to, feeling Castiel's silky mane flowing over his fingers.

Castiel only replied with the lightest of nickers, that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, before he walked on. The overall experience was strange, to sum it up. Dean had never ridden on a horse before and he absently wondered if this was the way all horses walked or if this was the way angels walked when they were residing in horses.

His gait was stunningly smooth and perfected. It was as if he was driving the Impala on a faultlessly level highway, a road winding and wavering into the distance. And once again, Castiel carefully picked his way through the forest, making sure that Dean's leg wasn't jarred or bounced any more rougher than it already was, the deed making an impression on Dean. And in turn, he made sure that he wasn't aggravating Castiel's wounds any more than they already were.

He never noticed it but in this form, Castiel smelled of grass, hay and something sweet. Now that he thought about it, Dean, in all his hunter expertise and skill, he, not once, could detect any sort of fragrance of Castiel in his tax accountant form. It was as if the angel was trying to contain the very little evidence that he even walked in this world.

But this intoxicating, divine smell, Dean breathed it in slowly and deeply. It helped with his dizziness and soothed his frayed nerves. In his muddy haze, he could distantly hear the sounds of cars and what appeared to be someone calling his name. Relieved, he slumped against Castiel's warm neck, his cheek sweeping over his mane, breath evening out slowly.

" Thanks, Cas," he murmured, eyes drooping, feeling warm and comfortable where he was.

His body was now overwhelmingly weary and he felt himself slipping away to the darkness. Dean wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Castiel whisper softly in his ears, using a human voice and not of a nicker or a whinny, as the last bit of his consciousness dimmed and flickered.

_" Rest, Dean. All is well."_

And he did, sinking away to the darkness and oblivion. But there was no fear or hesitation in it.

He knew that Castiel would watch over him and protect him.

* * *

When he woke up, Dean was floating in a sea of bliss and calm. There was no pain and stress imposing on his body. He wanted to do nothing else but drift between sleep and awakening. But he knew he couldn't just lie here forever.

He opened his eyes reluctantly and realized that he was in a hospital bed. He quickly inspected himself and found his leg expertly bandaged and treated. Slowly, he turned his head to see Sam sitting with a chair pulled over to his bed, reading some book. Then, by some mysterious power, Sam raised his head, instinctively sensing his brother was awake.

" Dean!" The relief pooled from Sam's face as he quickly jumped to his feet, hovering over to Dean's side.

He tried to speak, only to end up coughing. Sam quickly gave him some water to drink. As soon as he was done, Dean tried speaking again. " What happened?" he rasped out.

" The Wendigo got you, remember? It dragged you to who knows where, into the darkness." The glint in Sam's eyes was hollow and enraged, as if he was seeing the scene right before his eyes. " It must have been hours. I was running around in the forest, calling for you. Then, there you were, lying on the ground, unconscious. But I couldn't find the Wendigo at all, even when I went back for it later. It was like it just vanished or something, leaving you alone. Thank God it did."

At the end of Sam's words, something jogged in Dean's memory and he sat up, wildly looking around. " Where's Cas?" he asked, half-expecting the angel to be appearing out of nowhere to greet them.

" Cas was there?" Sam blinked, surprised.

Dean nodded his head. " Yeah. Cas was there. He fought off the Wendigo and he was the one who killed it. Then, he helped me get back. He probably left me there once you came." He hesitated, wondering if Sam would believe the next words coming out of his mouth. " Cas ... he was a horse. A stallion. Of all things, he was a horse. A white horse that saved my butt from the Wendigo."

Sam looked at him blankly. " What?" he finally said, dumbfounded.

" A horse, Sammy," Dean repeated, slightly irritably. " Cas was a horse."

" Yeah, I got that part. But why a horse? What about his other form? The human one."

" No clue. Cas didn't say. Even if he could speak human, I doubt he would have told me." He shook his head, feeling exhausted. " Whatever he did, horse or no horse, he saved my life."

There was a pause. For the umpteenth time, Dean wished Castiel was there. Not to question him or start hassling the angel. But to earnestly and honestly thank him for coming and looking after him until Sam got to him. And from the way Sam's eyes brightened, Sam wanted to express his gratitude as well.

" Get some sleep, Dean," Sam said comfortingly. Though with the dark circles under his eyes, Dean suspected that Sam needed a good rest too. " Cas killed the Wendigo, the family's safe and we came out decently well."

" If you call almost losing my leg decently well."

Chuckling, Sam smiled. " I'm going to go clear up the papers, all right? Don't go anywhere while I'm gone."

" Yes, ma'am. I am at your mercy," Dean mockingly said, as Sam exited the room, leaving with another laugh.

As he closed his eyes again, a sense of peace and solace washing gently over him, Dean was suddenly aware that Castiel's horse scent was there, clinging quietly to his skin, still consoling and reassuring. Like Castiel had purposely left a part of himself for Dean. Smiling to himself, Dean allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

This time, he dreamed of white stallions and soaring with them through the air.


End file.
